


Felix Makes the Bed: Sylvain Lies in It

by AlysFancosm



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Enthusiastic Consent, Feelings, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, M/M, No Spoilers, Porn with Feelings, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Shameless Smut, Smut, Sylvain breaks Felix with eye contact, Sylvain loses his words, this was betad so I guess Glenn lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:41:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23093491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlysFancosm/pseuds/AlysFancosm
Summary: Felix comes home after a hard day looking forward to his own bed. He finds it already occupied.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 16
Kudos: 98





	Felix Makes the Bed: Sylvain Lies in It

**Author's Note:**

> This fic can be blamed on the lovely @EnlacingLines, who kindly beta'd it for me. Thankyou!

Felix wasn’t known for his patience. If you asked – and few would dare – he’d say it was used up long ago on idiots like Dimitri and Sylvain. That night, saddle-sore and chilled to his depths, chased all the way home by driving rain and wind, he was fresh out. The stablehand that came for his horse seemed to sense it too: taking the reins and retreating with the tired animal without saying a word.

The hall was only slightly warmer than the frigid winter air outside, but Felix still stripped out of his layers, handing them to waiting servants. His steward winced as he accepted an armful of coat, rust-coloured stains splattered up the arms.

“My lord, are you unhurt? The blood -”

“Bandits,” Felix barked his response, making a few staff jump. “North of the bridge to Ellsmill. Tell the mayor to get people out there to deal with the corpses. And let him know that if the guards I sent him are too busy to patrol the roads, I expect him to do it himself.”

“At once, my lord.” The steward nodded, passing the bloody bundle off to someone else and taking Felix’s gloves instead. He didn’t leave with them.

Felix only just bit down on his sigh, flexing and rolling his stinging fingers. “What else?”

“Margrave Gautier is visiting, my lord.”

Prickling burst across the back of his neck, a fleeting memory of warmth ghosted his lips. He masked his hesitation. “Again?”

There was no rancour in it: they visited each other often. He’d left Sylvain’s estate only two weeks before. He just hadn’t expected him so soon after... after _that_. And before a storm, no less. It was foolish of the man to travel so far in bad weather, but hardly the most foolish of all Sylvain’s exploits.

_Who am I calling a fool?_

“The Margrave has already retired for the evening.”

Unsurprising. The Red Wolf Moon rose hours ago; painting the landscape black and burgundy, howls carried away by the oncoming gale. He still felt the wet night in his clothes; the warmth and dryness of a clean nightshirt beckoned. “Fine. I’m retiring now as well.”

One of the staff promptly presented him with a candle, and Felix dismissed everyone to their own beds and business. He scarcely needed the light to tread the familiar path to his rooms; didn’t have to look to know the oil-painted faces of long dead relatives as they were illuminated in yellow, or to recognise the empty vase on the sideboard beside his bedroom door as his mother’s favourite. Even the sound of his door bolt was familiar when he slid it home, practically sagging against the wood with relief.

Something rustled behind him.

Felix span on his heel, hand flying to his sword as the other lifted the candle higher – gleaming over pale skin and red hair.

Sylvain rubbed at his face, sluggishly sitting up in bed. The sheets fell away from his chest, leaving it bare. Half the hairs there were chafed short by the padding he wore under his armour.

“You’re late,” he said, in the groggy tones of the recently woken. “Trouble on the road?”

“What are you doing?” Felix hissed, hand leaving the hilt but clenching instead, nails digging into his palm. Sylvain swallowed, shifting his shoulders lazily as he woke up.

“Waiting for you. Or I was. Kind of drifted off a bit, but it’s pretty late, and I left early to ride over here. Can you blame me?”

Felix set down the candle before the quivering flame could give away his shaking; that hand tightening as quickly as the first. He strode to the edge of the bed and made himself fold his arms, burying his fingers safely into his linen shirt.

“In _my_ bed,” he continued, still a hiss. If the Goddess was kind, Sylvain would only hear anger, and with the light behind Felix he wouldn’t be able to make out the colour on his cheeks.

“Yeah,” Sylvain said, still slurred and half-asleep. “There were candles and -and stuff, but I guess they went out. Why are you so late?”

“Why are you in my bed?” Felix countered, sharp. “You have a room. Three doors down. Same as always.”

Sylvain didn’t answer at once, lifting his arms behind his head in a stretch. A stretch that made the muscle under the skin flex; that made a little space between the bunched-up sheets and blankets and his stomach. Space Felix was decidedly not looking at, not even when Sylvain let his arms fall to the covers with a soft flump.

“I mean… isn’t that obvious?”

Felix clenched his teeth. After a moment, Sylvain muttered something and gestured, and another candle, placed close on the bedside table, leapt into life. The new glow cast dancing patterns on the wall and the canvas of Sylvain’s body, spilling onto the bedclothes. Bedclothes littered with dark shapes. He couldn’t help it; Felix snatched one up, velvet soft and filling his nose with familiar scent, stronger even than the heavy, lingering smell of wax.

“Roses?” He crushed the petal between his thumb and forefinger, dropping the limp remains. “ _Rose petals_?”

“Uhhuh.” Sylvain held his glare for only a moment before his eyes slid away, head tilting as he stretched a crick from his neck. “Okay, to be honest I found the roses in the hall. But it’s the thought that counts, right?”

For a second, Sylvain looked hopeful; mouth quirked up with the quip. It disappeared quickly; Felix’s chest burning with cold air, breath coming tight and hard through pressed teeth. His voice shook like his closed fist, but stayed sharp.

“Hilarious. You rode over here in a storm, helped yourself to my bed and wrecked a flower arrangement for some idiotic joke?”

“Felix -”

“Pathetic!” he spat, before Sylvain could carry on. “If this is what passes for your sense of humour, then -”

“I’m not joking.”

Felix’s mouth shut so hard his teeth clicked. “You -”

“I’m not joking around,” Sylvain repeated. He was frowning; he actually had the gall to be frowning at him from his own bed. “Come off it, Felix.”

“ _Come off it?_ ” he snarled back, flaring up, heat soaring up his back. “What do you think you’re -”

“Seducing you,” Sylvain cut him off, flat. “I’m seducing you. Idiot.”

Speechless, Felix stared while Sylvain sighed, leaning back on his hands; pressed into the pillows. “Really?” he demanded, cocking a brow. “Flowers and candles and you didn’t get it? You’re not stupid.”

_I fell for you, didn’t I?_

“I admit it’d have been better if I was awake and everything, but I didn’t know you’d be late. Which you still haven’t explained, by the way.”

“Why should I -”

Sylvain rolled his eyes and talked right over him. “I’m just saying it must have been something, if it threw you off so badly you thought I waited naked in your bed as a _joke_.”

His mouth was so dry it was hard not to choke. “You’re naked?”

Sylvain shrugged a little, but he looked slightly pinker. “I - yeah. Seducing you, remember?”

“But _why?_ ”

He hated himself for it as soon as the words burst out, ringing in the room like a bell. He hated it like the hands he had to grasp at his shirt with, failing him, making him feel so _weak_.

Sylvain’s response came slowly, deep and careful.

“What should I have done, Felix? Carried on as we were? Hanging out together for days or weeks only to be lonely the second you’re gone? Sticking it out for another few weeks before it’s too much and we’re right back together again?”

“I -”

He would have stopped anyway, couldn’t find the words, even before Sylvain leaned forward and caught his elbow, squeezing slightly. Gentle pressure eased him into sitting on the bed.

“Really?” Sylvain asked again, fingers pressing harder. “Is that all you wanted? That and a few drunk kisses we don’t talk about and pretend to forget afterwards?”

He must be scarlet; his face was burning like the waxy stub of the candle. The memory rushed over him; the taste of ale and spice and impulse, hot on his friend’s mouth, a hand pulling on his hair that sent sparks shooting down his spine –

“Is that really enough for you, Felix?” Sylvain demanded. His grip tightened painfully for the briefest moment before fading off, drawing away. He leaned back, testing his lip with his tongue. “Because it isn’t for me.”

Their breathing was loud in the waiting silence. Felix’s heart was louder in his ears; roaring against whatever was left of his common sense.

It’s a while before he speaks. “I’m not one of your women.”

“That’s obvious.” Sylvain's throat bobbed as he swallowed, eyes following Felix’s hands as they reached for his boots.

“You can’t just roll me and run,” Felix warned, low and threatening, as if he wasn’t shaking. It took him three goes to release the buckles, hooking a couple of fingers in to slide them off, one after the other.

“I’d never do that to you,” Sylvain said at once, with perfect sincerity, as if he hadn’t spent his academy days breaking what little was left of Felix heart again and again. The ache was still there, somewhere, buried deep after years of blood and war and standing alongside the man stretched out in his bed.

It didn’t stop Felix from crawling forward, knee sinking into the mattress on the other side of where Sylvain’s must be, under his blankets. “I’d kill you.”

“I know.” The reply came with a smile, fondness crinkling the corners of Sylvain’s eyes. “Painfully. I get it.”

Felix sank carefully onto Sylvain’s covered lap, thighs tightening around the ones beneath him, trapping him there. He pushed his fists into his knees, nails sharp in his skin; prickling and painful as the tears trying to push their way out. “You have to mean it," he hissed, threat lost.

“I do,” Sylvain said, easily. And then he had to have realised, had to have seen how Felix’s body was betraying him, because he put a hand under his chin; pointer finger sweeping across the soft skin there, and he just barely pressed the pad of his thumb into the corner of Felix’s mouth.

“I mean it, Felix,” he said, with all the weight of their shared years pressing his voice low and full and ragged at the edges. “I - I love you. Have for a long time. And maybe...” he paused, and his head tilted gently into a smile. A real one. One Felix had clung to the memory of, riddled with hope and longing. “... maybe charging in here and ambushing you in your bedroom wasn’t the best way to tell you that. But I meant it. Every unwanted rose petal.”

Felix snorted; and the huff of breath brushed across Sylvain’s cheek as he leaned in, pressed his mouth to the spot his thumb had been moments before. It was hardly even a kiss; a fleeting brush of lips, and it was enough to make Felix _break_.

“Fine!” he spat, fists uncurling to seize Sylvain’s shoulders, bunched muscle hard under his hands. “Seduce me then, if you must. But be quick.”

Sylvain laughed, and damn if it didn’t warm Felix all the way through, even more so than the hands that settled on his hips; not pushing, not grabbing, heat seeping into his flesh. “Charming as ever.”

Sylvain was still grinning when he kissed Felix; the curve of his mouth all the better against Felix’s own. Then he kissed him again, deeper, mouth open, stinging hot and sleep-soured, like tasting fire and victory and the dizziness rushing to his head. He swallowed Sylvain’s grunted breath as his hands tightened on him; dragging him forward and down; closer; _closer_. Buried in each other’s mouths they could hardly be nearer, short of fusing and melting into one, and as his head swum and his heart sang he couldn’t be sure they hadn’t. When Sylvain separated from him to speak, his voice was thick.

“There’s no way I’m going to rush this.”

Felix growled a protest. Sylvain answered by hauling him to his body, one arm hooking round his back while he teased and tugged at Felix’s shirt. The rush of cold that flooded in when the fabric lifted was soothed away with the flat of Sylvain’s palm, large and rough from his lance, rasping as it slid up his torso. Felix arched into it with a noise Sylvain swallowed into kisses, trailing them from his mouth along the line of his jaw. Felix couldn’t be still under that, writhing against the man in front of him, gasping as his moved to claw at his shirt fastenings, desperate to get the damn thing off.

Sylvain moved away only to let Felix wrench the garment over his head, groaning as linen gave way to skin. Felix tossed the shirt away; movement knocking his hair loose. A few strands fell around his face; got trapped when Sylvain buried his against Felix’s neck; lathering tender kisses and occasional swipes of tongue over his stretched and sensitive throat.

"Get _on_ with it -”

Sylvain hummed, refusing to be pushed, vibrations shivering in Felix’s skin. Then teeth closed on prickling flesh; the muscle between neck and shoulder, and Sylvain sucked a mark that had him gasping. The red-head drew back slightly, chuckle ghosting on the damp patch, and Felix didn’t need to look to picture the smug expression on his face.

“I hoped you’d like that.”

_Damn him damn him damn him_

Felix tightened a hand into Sylvain’s hair, none too gentle; spurred on by the sharp inhale. “So do it more, already.”

Sylvain sank down further, nipping just above the collar bone. “I love you,” he murmured to the skin. He pressed gentler kisses along the sweep. “I love you.” Across the other. “I love you.” He bit down again, sucking hard and painful and exquisite into Felix’s neck; and Felix threw his head back so far he felt the loose ends of his hair brush the middle of his arched back, ticklish on his spine.

“You - _ah_ – you as well,” he forced out, voice broken.

“Felix." Air rushed over his skin with the long ‘x’. “Say it properly.”

He made a botched noise when teeth scraped over his fresh bruise. “Ah -”

“Say it,” Sylvain insisted, speaking down his chest, arms closing tighter around him. “Felix. Please.”

“Agh, fine! Fine, I love you, idiot!” Felix spat out, and he felt Sylvain grin rather than saw it.

“I know you do.”

“You ass -”

His objections were smothered beneath Sylvain’s mouth; he pulled at his bottom lip before licking inside. Felix wrapped his arms around the taller man’s shoulders, nails scraping across his shoulder blades. As soon as he did, he felt the muscles tighten; before he could react or move he was being bodily turned around and over: Sylvain was pushing him against the mattress. He pulled his arms out from under Felix’s back, using them to hold himself above him. The blankets had suffered; twisted up and between them, fallen away from Sylvain’s body. Felix pinned his eyes on his chin.

Apparently, he was obvious.

“You might as well look. I stripped off for your sake, after all.”

“Shut up!”

“You do remember we used to bathe together at the academy, right?”

Felix twisted beneath him, and Sylvain put a heavy hand to one of his bare shoulders. The strength behind it lit fires down his front to his crotch. Why the hell was he still in his breeches? It hurt.

“This isn’t like the academy.”

“Check it out, you might like it even better now,” Sylvain quipped, leaning in to nose against his pulse.

With his gaze obscured, Felix looked down. Blood surged into his face.

Sylvain must have felt the heat, because he chuckled before he lifted his head to see it. “I knew you could do it, sweetheart.”

Felix threw himself against the hand, chest up and shoulders back against the mattress, pushing to get away. Sylvain put the other on him too, and that was exactly what he wanted. “I am _not_ your ‘sweetheart’,” he snarled, more fires blazing.

The man above him made deliberate eye contact and held it, tighter and tauter as he eased down Felix’s body. Felix held his breath with it, hands running over his shoulders, his pecs, his ribs... he felt Sylvain’s words against his navel.

“Well, you’re sure as hell not just a sparring partner anymore.”

Felix sucked in a gasp as calloused fingertips dug under his breeches. Sylvain ran them around the waistband before withdrawing to get to work on his belt; hot trails in their wake. There was a soft metal clink as it came undone.

“I thought you weren’t going to rush,” Felix prodded, breathless as some of the tightness around his crotch eased, Sylvain’s knuckles brushing against the obvious bulge of his erection. His face was too close to it, hunkered down on his knees over Felix’s body. Felix was too far gone to be embarrassed or apologetic.

But Sylvain stopped, releasing the belt and lifting his hands away, sitting back and up. For the first time Felix saw how fast he was breathing; chest shaking with it like he was leading the charge to battle once again. “Do you need me to stop?” he asked, and though his voice and expression were tight he didn’t flinch. Not once had he let his gaze drop; Felix couldn’t swear he’d even blinked.

“Don’t you dare,” he snapped, and Sylvain’s face cracked into something like a smirk. Something hot and dangerous that made every fire he’d started across Felix’s flesh flare up.

“Good.” Sylvain dipped down, kissing the skin just above Felix’s belly button. His hands found the belt again, pulling it away to unbutton the fly of his riding breeches. His breath was jagged now, hands less precise. Buttons undone, he hooked one set of fingers into the fabric ready to pull, the other hand settling on Felix’s waist. He swallowed, took a steadying breath. “Look, if you do need me to stop just tap my shoulder or something.”

_I’ll be damned._

Felix nodded just the same, planting his feet so he could pop his hips up and let Sylvain strip him. The hand on his waist moved underneath him to his spine, and _Goddess_ how and when did Sylvain get strong enough to hold him up with just one hand – the other tugged and wrenched at his trousers, making a lopsided fuss of it, but Felix helped with his own, pushing his smallclothes down straight after, kicking and thrashing to get all the confounded fabric off his legs.

_Socks. Should have started with the -_

If Felix could have flushed more, he would have done when Sylvain carefully, gently settled him back down onto the bed, easing his hand out from under Felix back and making sure he was comfortable before he ran it down his leg. He watched Felix’s face as his palm swept over his calf to tug off one of the offending items; face set into the hard-jawed expression of concentration he had when casting a difficult spell. The same for the other leg; the other sock, until Felix’s face was burning and the same unshed tears were threatening to burst and embarrass him at this, the worst possible moment during one of the best of Felix’s life.

“Sylvain,” he protested, voice cracked and raw. He didn’t know what he was protesting.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, sweetheart. You’re beautiful.”

Felix didn’t sob, but it was a close thing. Close enough for Sylvain to move over him again, back up his body, pressing another flurry of kisses across his cheeks and nose amongst soothing, shushing noises. He settled onto his elbows, leaving his hands free to rest on Felix’s head; to stroke his hair.

“So beautiful,” he murmured, kissing his forehead. Then he hesitated, the hands on him turning tentative. “Can I -" he brushed loose hair from Felix’s brow; a light, ticklish feeling. “ - can I undo this?”

Part of Felix wanted to scoff – Sylvain had no problems stripping him of his breeches or marking him with bruises without permission, but he was trembling at the prospect of letting down his hair? The bigger, better part of him wanted nothing to stop what was happening between them. “Sure.” He turned his head to make it easier.

It took time; Sylvain frowning slightly, eyes anxiously flicking over Felix’s profile as he worked to undo the style without hurting him. Felix wanted to tell him he liked it when Sylvain pulled his hair, just like he had that hasty, hurried kiss two weeks ago, but he couldn’t find the words. Instead he kissed the curve of Sylvain’s upper arm, conveniently close. Finally managing it, Sylvain carded his fingers through the dark strands, fanning it out across the pillow. “Thanks,” he murmured, choked, genuinely grateful.

“You -” Felix struggled to take a properly deep breath, chest pushing against Sylvain’s as it filled, “ - you can play with my hair whenever you like.”

“Really?” It was a whisper. Almost vulnerable. Felix couldn’t answer, but forced himself to nod once, curt, by way of answer.

“Thankyou,” Sylvain whispered again, placing another kiss high on Felix’s cheekbone. Felix moved his head into it, lifting his chin and leaning up, taking Sylvain’s lips back. He kissed him with an open mouth, wrapping his arms around Sylvain’s neck and pulling him down to lose himself in wet heat and tongue and the taste of him again. Sylvain made a hungry sound into his mouth that became a groan when Felix thrust his hips up, once; an experiment. Friction chased along the length of his cock, the seeping head smearing through the rougher hair under Sylvain’s navel, making his heart and breath stutter in his throat.

“ _Goddess_ ,” Sylvain murmured, heartfelt and fervent in a way Felix had never learned to pray. “Felix, can we - ?”

“You better,” Felix answered, muffled as he moved his mouth against Sylvain’s again.

“Okay, okay okay...”

One of Sylvain’s hands went wandering under the pillows, and a moment later returned clutched around a small bottle of oil. Which he’d hidden in Felix’s bed. It should have pissed him off, but he found himself grateful.

 _‘I’m seducing you, idiot_.’

Sylvain was still muttering as he popped the clasp with his thumbnail, reaching awkwardly over Felix’s torso to pour some oil into his palm. It dripped, and Felix flinched away from the cold liquid.

“Sorry, sorry,” Sylvain mumbled, and Felix loved it; loved the way his diction was fraying and words were stumbling and running together, all before they’d even started.

He almost forgot to be nervous about what came next.

Sylvain pushed himself up a bit, rubbing his palms together to warm the oil, and with another frown and gesture, he brought more of the candles back to life. Their flickering glow painted the pale expanse of Sylvain’s skin in yellow and gold; his hair redder than orange. Felix made a questioning sound, but then Sylvain looked back at him and Felix was distracted by the light sliding over his oil-slicked hands.

“Wanna see you,” Sylvain explained, reaching down between them. Felix sucked in a breath and clenched his teeth.

The first brush of Sylvain’s fingertips against his hole was terrifying and thrilling all at once; his body automatically jumping away from the touch, biting down on a cry. The second sent shivers racing over his exposed skin, like he was freezing despite his body being alive with roaring flames.

“I have to – I gotta -” Sylvain tried to explain, words sloppy and hard to distinguish.

“I know how it’s done,” Felix snapped, or tried to. It was hard when his voice was shaking. “Just do it.”

Sylvain nodded rather than argued, and a moment later Felix felt one broad, rough finger breach him. He moaned; and so did Sylvain, for all the world like he was the one being opened up.

They settled into a rhythm, of sorts. Or rather Sylvain did; Felix could hardly manage more than to lie there and take it, knees quivering where he had propped them up. Steadily one finger became two; first to one knuckle and then further, then scissoring inside him in a way that made him claw at the sheets. Curling, twisting, burning and stretching and still somehow not quite enough. He’d lost track of the sounds he was making, of anything except the way Sylvain’s fingers were making him feel.

When he finally managed to look; to control his body enough to see what was going on; he saw that the other oil-slicked palm was wrapped around Sylvain’s cock, barely moving but there. His own practically wept with jealousy.

“Sylvain - “ he sounded wrecked and broken, like Sylvain had turned him inside out and fragile, “come on. Do it. Hurry up.”

Air rushed out of Sylvain like he’s been punched in the stomach, but he still shook his head, and a moment later Felix threw his own back again as the fingers left him and then re-entered with a third.

“Don’t wanna hurt you,” his lover said, his voice just as rough as Felix’s. “Not ever, sweetheart.”

 _Don’t flatter yourself_ , he wanted to say, or perhaps he didn’t, because all that came out of his mouth was a moan, tangled up with Sylvain’s name.

“Nearly,” the reply came, thick. “Not long.”

All the times Felix had pictured Sylvain taking him apart, fist down his smalls and dreams before his eyes, echoed in his ears, Felix had never imagined he’d do it so slowly. But then his fingers were sliding out, oil dribbling after them, warm and smooth. His weight was shifted around as Sylvain moved on the mattress, and then something hot and blunt and soft was nudging against his entrance.

_Finally!_

_“Sylvain.”_

Still, the larger man took his time, rocking into him in stages, giving fraction by fraction what Felix had always imagined as one fierce slide. Careful and gentle and steady, until Sylvain’s arms were shaking above him and his eyes were closed as he stilled, completely buried. Felix couldn’t tell if the thunder was outside or in his chest, scratching at Sylvain’s biceps as his cock twitched, leaving wet sticky blots over his navel.

When Sylvain inside him was – well, not comfortable exactly, but right in a way he couldn’t explain – Felix found his breath again. “Move,” he hissed, or begged, or demanded; whatever it was it made Sylvain shudder. Felix keened, panting as he met the sliver of dark bronze as Sylvain cracked his eyes open.

“You’re sure?”

“ _Yes._ ”

Sylvain gasped as Felix lifted his legs and arms, knotting them around his waist and shoulders, the angle inside him changing with an aching, delicious stretch. It pushed Sylvain into moving; the first few shallow thrusts giving way to deeper, longer ones, hipbones colliding with Felix’s flesh each time he was filled. It felt like being broken open and put back together more complete than before, and for a while Felix was lost to everything except the sensation of Sylvain inside him. A minute shift of Sylvain’s knees and another thrust, and the blunt head of him pushed against Felix just _so_. His whole body spasmed, arching, white hot heat flooding from his head to his toes in a flash fire, and whatever Sylvain was whispering to him was inaudible through the roaring in his ears.

Felix let a moan escape his mouth into the air; neck suddenly too weak to keep his head up. One of Sylvain’s arms curled around his back again, cradling him against his chest, hair scratching against skin. With trembling strength, Felix rolled his own hips; thighs flexing as he sought friction, more of that white hot pleasure in his veins. Sylvain’s chest deflated with the depth of his moan.

“Sweetheart, if you do that I won’t last,” he admitted, breathless, ragged, breath damp against Felix’s ear, shivering and ticklish. Felix answered with another deliberate grind, forcing himself further onto Sylvain and his cock against Sylvain’s stomach. The other man swore.

Sylvain pitched forward off his knees; his bodyweight pushing Felix hard into the mattress. He didn’t stop thrusting, and the hand that had been holding them up grabbed at Felix’s hair instead, pulling. Felix hissed pleasure, mewling as his head was hauled back, throat bared to Sylvain’s teeth and tongue. Sylvain marked him while Felix whined and scratched and pushed back harder against the man above him, and his squirming allowed Sylvain to snake the hand that had been pinned under his back between them instead. Felix gasped when a still-slick palm closed around his length. A few frantic strokes were all it took to send him over the edge; hot sticky spend seeping across Sylvain’s knuckles, dripping onto his belly.

Sylvain swore again when Felix came, and Felix half howled when the pitch of his hips became harsh and rapid; slamming home until Sylvain’s cry matched his own. He shuddered, hips shaking and twitching before stilling, and Felix had to screw up his eyes and focus through the dizzying spirals following his orgasm to feel the warmth pulsing inside him.

And then it was over, panting filling the space between them, spend cooling on his skin. Sylvain sluggishly heaved himself onto his elbows before pulling out, the pair of them wincing at the accompanying mess. Boneless, Sylvain rolled and flopped down beside Felix.

The pair of them stared up at the bed canopy, catching their breath and the thoughts beginning to clamber in on them.

“That,” Sylvain said finally, voice still a little thick, “was incredible.”

“Mm.”

Sylvain turned his head, and his grin was lazy, satisfied; the curl of his lips warm and genuine in a way that might have made his heart stop were it not still pounding. The rucked up and folded sheets beneath them rustled as Sylvain wiped his hands on them, before reaching out to take one of Felix’s; lifting it to his mouth and pressing a kiss to his knuckles. 

“You’re not even gonna argue? Goddess, we ought to have done this sooner.”

“You want me to argue?” Felix murmured, snap stolen by the tiredness soaking his bones and heavy limbs.

“No.” Sylvain rolled over, scooting in to his side, extending an arm across Felix stomach -

“Too hot,” Felix grumbled, making no effort to move away or shove Sylvain off as he fitted himself to Felix’s shape, wriggling his shoulders in to get comfortable. Sylvain carried on like he hadn’t heard him.

“ - I want you to let me cuddle you while you get some sleep.” He adjusted his arm, and his elbow landed in some of Felix’s spend, smearing it over the skin and making them both wince. “Okay, I want to get cleaned up and then sleep. While cuddling.”

Felix sighed, forcing his arms and legs to move, to drag himself across the cold expanse of his bedroom to the pitcher of water on his dresser. Behind him, Sylvain muttered something else, and when Felix poured water into the bowl and reached for a cloth, he was pleased to find it steaming gently. He murmured thanks, wiping himself down before rinsing, rewetting and wringing the cloth, tossing it to Sylvain as he trudged back to bed. It landed with a wet slap on Sylvain’s thigh.

“Cheers, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that,” Felix retorted, dragging at the blankets, forcing Sylvain to roll and wriggle so Felix could pull them over himself and turn his back on the red-haired man in his bed.

He tried not to listen to the sound of the fabric sliding across Sylvain’s skin, or to mind the dipping of the mattress as Sylvain put the cloth aside and wormed his way next to Felix, one arm falling on top of him over the covers, holding him in place. Sylvain’s nose touched the back of his neck, quickly followed by a brush of his lips, and then a faint question, stirring the short hairs there.

“You don’t like it?”

Felix hesitated, but only briefly, before heaving air into his lungs and admitting; “I don’t want to be pandered to like those women.”

“Ah.” Sylvain paused, breathing steadying against Felix neck, hand smoothing over the blankets. In the space of silent moments, Felix eyelids started to droop. “You know, I’ve only ever called you sweetheart.”

“Really.” Felix kept it flat, like it wasn’t a question, fingers tightening round the blankets as he waited for the answer.

“Yes. Honestly, Felix. Only you.” He went quiet again, and Felix felt himself relax a little, body sinking a little further towards sleep.

“Then… I guess it’s okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Another brush of Sylvain’s lips, hairs prickling into goosebumps. “Thankyou,” he breathed, like the pet name was a favour. His arm tightened over the blankets, hugging Felix close. “I’m gonna spend the rest of my life trying to make you happy, you know that?”

“Mm.” Felix buried his blush into his pillows, moving just a tiny bit so his back was flush to Sylvain’s chest, damp from the cloth.

“I’ll start courting you from tomorrow.”

Felix nose wrinkled. “ _Courting?_ ”

“Of course!”

“It’s a bit late for my honour, Sylvain.”

He could picture his friends’ – _his lover’s_ – fake pout. “But then I’ll have an excuse to visit.”

“That’s never stopped you before,” Felix muttered. It hadn’t stopped him, either. “Besides, if we’re courting we’ll have to have a chaperone.”

“Ugh,” said Sylvain, and Felix shifted himself against his body, demonstrating his agreement. Sylvain eagerly fitted his knees to the back of Felix’s, and squeezed a little harder. “Sucks to be Ingrid, I guess,” he offered, and despite himself Felix laughed. By the time he drifted off, Sylvain’s arm relocated under the covers, hand splayed across his belly, he was quietly certain it wouldn’t be the last time.

**Author's Note:**

> VERY MILD SPOILERS FOR BLUE LION SYLVAIN/FELIX PAIRED ENDING:
> 
> Who am I kidding, y'all seen it, right?
> 
> Anyway, the ending card describes these two frequently paying each other surprise visits. I mentioned to @EnlacingLines that I thought it'd be funny for Felix to come home one day and find Sylvain waiting in his bed without explanation ("Yo, whats up?"), and she replied with: 'Write it'. So that's how this smutty get-together happened. 
> 
> I am unabashed Claudeleth, Sylvix, Ferdibert trash and I can be found on twitter: @AFancosm


End file.
